


Arm in Arm

by tigerbright



Category: Covert Affairs
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Het Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbright/pseuds/tigerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to my betas, but especially to Al and Masha Sten-Clanton, dear friends who took the time to read my story and tell me how it compares to their own experiences.  Many thanks, also, to Haddayr Copley-Woods, who tells it how it is.  I strongly recommend both her LJ and her Minnesota Public Radio commentary.</p></blockquote>





	Arm in Arm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mitchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitchy/gifts).



As Auggie walks into the lobby, Annie takes his arm.   
  
Jai's taken his arm, mostly to drag him this way or that, testing him.  Auggie's still Special Forces, and he can take him.  Jai knows this.  Mostly.  But he tests, always hoping to find a chink in the armor.   
  
Joan never takes his arm.  She stands above and behind, knowing he can find her, letting him anticipate her sharp, strong, voice.  Sometimes, he takes hers, walking easily beside her, letting her think that he's simply doing it for appearances, though he actually does need the contact with her straightened arm in order to keep a quiet conversation going.   
  
But Annie comes up and takes his arm conspiratorially, whispering in his ear, teasing, poking him if he's feeling down.  Sometimes she's the one who needs cheering up, and he reaches out to her when he can tell where she is.   
  
But then, he can always tell where Annie is.   
  
He finds himself looking straight toward people when he wants to make a point, just as he did when sighted.  He wonders if it spooks people; he thinks it would have bothered him, before the bomb.   
  
Annie doesn't spook.  And you can't embarrass her, he thinks wryly.   
  
"You have the oddest look on your face."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I think you're trying to meet my eyes, but your aim is off."   
  
He redirects over what he's pretty sure is her left shoulder. "Better?"   
  
"Whatever works for you."   
  
More glasses hit the table.  "They have a new lager.  Thought you'd like to try it."   
  
"I hate lager."   
  
"More for me."   
  
He wonders what it would have been like to be suddenly blinded and not have the heightened, trained, senses of an elite soldier.  He doesn't want to know; he left the rehab facility as early as he could convince the CIA folks to give him his nearly-invisible cane of light.  He enjoys the privilege of not looking handicapped… until he does.   
  
Annie finds him at his desk, fumbling at the pile of unlabeled thumb drives (who the hell uses sneakernet in the goddamned CIA anyway!) someone has oh-so-kindly left on his desk.   
  
"Where's the Braille labeler?" he shouts at her.   
  
"I've got it.  You check the drives and tell me what to type."  And she does, and he files the drives.  He thanks her, later.   
  
"You'd have done the same for me."   
  
He would have.  He has done.   
  
The trip to the Smithsonian wasn't actually a bullet to dodge, he admits later.  Danielle and Ms. Frost were terrific at herding the kids down the halls with him, and for the rest, he just had to keep walking… and talking.   
  
"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a T. Rex!"   
  
"An apatosaurus!" shouts a child who must be standing practically on Auggie's toes, from the force of the blast.   
  
He laughs, and looks squarely downward at the small, probably upturned, face.  "Not unless they changed the map."  He’d taken a docent tour several times after Annie’s cover had been determined, knowing he’d have to cover for her on occasion.  Though perhaps not with a gaggle of schoolkids.   


Everyone giggles.  "Seriously, though, it's not a T. Rex.  Go read the signs."    
  
Soon, he doesn't have to say much, just stand chatting in the corner with Danielle and Ms. Frost while the children zoom up, ask questions about this or that item in the gallery, and zoom off again.  He suspects they're testing him, from the giggles reverberating around the vaulted ceilings.  From the warmth in Ms. Frost's voice, he suspects he's passing, and probably getting at least a B. Thankfully, she doesn’t sound surprised. 

He considers the reaction he'd get from Annie if he asked Ms. Frost - Mary Anne, apparently - out.  He considers the reaction he'd get if he did so in front of Danielle, and Danielle told Annie first.   
  
"So what are you doing after work, Auggie?" Mary Anne asks.   
  
"Oh, getting some groceries, cleaning the cat box, nothing exciting."  He grins.   
  
When Annie returns and he hands her the usual pile of paperwork, she pokes him in the chest with it. "Ow!"   
  
"You are such a tomcat."   
  
"Well, yeah. How would you recognize me otherwise?"  She scoffs and clicks away in her sturdy-sounding kitten heels, but he hopes there's an eyeroll in there somewhere.   
  
Without Annie, he wouldn't have met Parker… well, wouldn't have re-met Parker.   
  
The train trip to Virginia is actually worse than the plane trip to Istanbul.  No sweet-smelling, honey-voiced stewardesses, just a gruff conductor who must be at least six inches taller and a foot thicker, telling him to sit down and put his backpack in his lap, and not shy about blocking his path with a plump belly lest he wish to do otherwise.  And needing a redcap to point him to the taxi stand was just embarrassing.   
  
Parker's worth it, though, he thinks, spooned with her, feeling her breathe, feeling her muscles relaxed in sleep.  If only… well.  He's the sort of person to get his optic centers blown out in Iraq, she's the sort of person to go to Eritrea and defend women.   
  
He wishes he could go too.  Or send Annie… no, Joan.  No-one would ever rape Parker if Joan were there to castrate them with words alone.  Heading up the DPD and turf wars with Jai… he could do without.  Maybe he'd just send Jai to protect Parker, and if they were really lucky, Jai would die protecting her and the Peace Corps would pull her out.   
  
Parker moves against him, tries to stretch, and wakes herself up.  "Penny for your thoughts?"   
  
"More like…" he stops, holding back the dark things he wants to say.  "More like being half-asleep.  I can't remember what I was thinking."   
  
"Mmm."  She rolls away and begins breathing deeply again.   
  
The day Parker leaves, he stands on the catwalk above the DPD, gripping the railing.  He smells Joan’s perfume, feels the railing move slightly as she leans on the railing next to him.

"Can I send Annie to Eritrea in order to drop Reva's little spy rocks?"   
  
"I don't think that I could talk my bosses into that one," she says dryly.  “But what I came to ask you was, is this going to affect your work?"   
  
He lifts his shoulders, lets them fall.  "I'm human."   
  
"I'm surprised to hear you admit it."   
  
"Yeah, well, don't tell Jai, he already thinks I'm brain-damaged."  He turns away from her, unwilling to meet a gaze he can't see.  She touches his shoulder.  "Auggie. We need you here, really here.  If you need a day, even a week, take it."   
  
"I'll tell you."   
  
He listens to her footsteps recede.  Annie's not trying to sneak up on him (she hasn’t succeeded yet!), but then, she'd promised to actually do some paperwork for once.   
  
Pausing at his office door, he listens for Annie again before settling down to his to-do list.  Hot spot here, asset over there, another asset in the other place meeting an agent, two or three agents in his ears.  Nothing like being the DPD's eye on the world.   
  
And, occasionally, maybe, a friend at his elbow is pretty good too.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas, but especially to Al and Masha Sten-Clanton, dear friends who took the time to read my story and tell me how it compares to their own experiences. Many thanks, also, to Haddayr Copley-Woods, who tells it how it is. I strongly recommend both her LJ and her Minnesota Public Radio commentary.


End file.
